A Schizophrenic Complaint 2

This is the last traveling story through the field of my sufferings. Sufferings that mean nothing for others, in a cruel world. It is the continuation of my latest post on this blog, but this time I will focus on four major pains in my life, highlighting what is more important about them. I will write four posts explaining four of the major issues in my life. Then I will focus on something else, maybe something funny or beautiful, life is the only gift one person has…

1) My family.
I was raised until I was 13 by my paternal grandmother, who was a very kind woman, teaching me (together with my godparents) that goodness is more valuable than evil, making me think that being kind and generous, calm and patient are virtues that lead to happiness. My parents didn’t care too much about me, even when I was ill in early childhood, they didn’t come to visit me. I was seeing them at the end of the week, when it was like going from paradise to hell. The rest of my family was very kind towards me and all of them were saying that my parents are too nervous and my mother is insane and they mourned my fate. After moving in 1984 with my parents, they started to torture me every day. I was very calm, delicate and sage in vain. I was threatened with psychiatric imprisonment since the beginning. My mother was cuffing and hitting me very often, without any guilt from my part. I didn’t provoke her. My father seemed to try to protect me in the beginning, but he said that my mother is insane and I must endure everything from her without complaining simply because she is my mother. Others had the same attitude. My mother’s toes were fidgeting, her mouth was tightening like a thread and she was sniffing the air violently when she was striking me. She used to scream for hours lies about me, making a hell of a scandal from nothing each day. She was expressing a kind of jealousy towards my beauty or intellect, which made me feel disgust. She was borrowing my own ideas as if they were her own. I was not aloud to have any intimate things or comfort at all, my parents even took off the door of my room where I tried to hide. I was not aloud to have my personal journal or poems or clothes, my mother was throwing away everything she wanted. Then my father joined her, striking me together with her. My mother was breaking plates or glasses sometimes, walking barefooted over them. After a while my patience and love for them became a sort of useless hatred. They tortured me so much that I was obliged to run away from home, but I had no place to go, so I try to find refuge at my godparents twice. But my parents came to take me home again, each time with promises and excuses, praying for forgiveness from my part. They also obliged me one day to go to a psychiatric consult, in order to stress the fact that they have rights upon me and I cannot escape from them. My father said that the psychiatrist told him that I was very intelligent, a kind of genius, but after a few weeks they started to torture me again. The most horrible fact was that my mother, who was very boastful all the time (even now she is the same) was saying that I am stupid and she is very diplomatic and cunning. She was torturing me continuously and the same day, after a few hours of screaming and violence she was kissing me on the cheeks or on the front, which made my hair raise on my arms with repulsion. She was always acting as if nothing happened, the neighbors didn’t intervene at all, although she made a lot of noise. She was making gifts to me (sweets or food or others) as if she were a perfect mother, but treating me as if I were an infant (and also idiot), as if her maternal love meant to imprison me in a golden cage and nothing else. Can you imagine how horrible was to be kissed and pampered by that woman a few moments after enduring horrible violence? She was very cunning and evil towards me not only until I was 18, but until today, even after my father’s death in 2005. She was treating me horribly in the psychiatric hospital or when I was under those drugs. And all the way, since 1984 she had everything she needed, she had enough money and communication with others, while I was isolated. And those others, along with the rest of my family turned their backs to me and started to act as if I were the one to blame, continuously praising my mother in order to hurt me, mourning her fate to suffer so much, having an insane daughter! What I need to stress is the fact that the society as a whole (my colleagues, my friends, etc.) acted as if I were to blame and tortured me with their lies before I was imprisoned in the psychiatric hospital. And they said that I don’t have the right to tell the truth about my parents and that I must bear my cross. And when a child of 21 years old is imprisoned without any guilt, the fact that her parents tortured her is redefined as a schizophrenic symptom (read the books and you will find this, especially in the old psychiatric theories). So I was only a slave. My parents even told me directly that they are my parents and have the right to kill me if they want to. My father was striking me more violently in my adult years, scratching my face with his nails, spitting on my face. They invited two of the doctors who „treated” me at our home. One of them, a young woman medic was pestering me about my past and when I told her that I believe in God she wrote a recipe writing that I was cured ! But when I told her I suffered too much evil from my parents and I cannot stay with them, she was spitting in my face that this is not normal and that after the treatment I was supposed to forget all those years from my youth ! She also said that I should be treated eventually with Lithium, but then renounced that decision. As a conclusion I am repeating that a child abused by his parents is also marginalized and treated with tremendous cruelty by the society, in spite of the fact that the child did nothing wrong. He cannot survive. Why are the others rejecting so brutally the abused children? I had no scars, my soul and my mind were beautiful, my love for my country and humans was true, my happiness could have been complete, without a stain. And when I was 17 I forgave my parents in vain, all my good intentions and feelings and deeds were in vain…
You can find here a part of my very happy childhood with my maternal grandparents. (Link)

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